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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143590">Lost &amp; Found</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterIsntReal/pseuds/JupiterIsntReal'>JupiterIsntReal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MCYT ONESHOTS [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dreamwastaken, Georgenotfound - Video Blogging RPF, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Injury, Clay | DreamWasTaken &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Explicit Language, Hurt No Comfort, Still bad at tagging, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:20:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterIsntReal/pseuds/JupiterIsntReal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up alone was certainly not what George had planned for the day. </p><p>“Sapnap- Sapnap! Wake up!” he shook the other from his sleep, only to be met with a hand trying to bat him away, “Sapnap, for fuck’s sake, get the fuck up you lazy nimrod, Dream’s missing.” </p><p>A brainrot Zombie Apocalypse Au wherein George and Sapnap wake up to find their usually clingy friend to be missing from his bed.</p><p>//Implied SNF :kith:</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dreamwastaken / GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dreamwastaken / Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MCYT ONESHOTS [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lost &amp; Found</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiddPng/gifts">PiddPng</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! So I'm just uploading this as a one-off au idea I got from my friend Pidd on Instagram! He's an insanely talented artist who drew my Ancient Greek Au for Kalopsia, so I decided to make this work as a token of gratitude for being literally such a cool fucking dude.</p><p>Pidd's Instagram: @chilldeggd</p><p>Enjoy the story!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George and Sapnap walked side-by-side in silence, hands clasped together in a feeble attempt to keep each other grounded. Obviously, it wouldn’t work, but they would never admit it to anybody. </p><p>Not like there was anybody to admit it to anyways.</p><p>It had been three years since the virus had infected the world, what first appeared as one of many egg-like structures within the center of the sunshine state of Florida, quickly grew in chunks across the entire state. The news called them bloodvines, grotesque tendrils that choked the buildings, and surrounding flora of the inner city of Orlando. They’d been deemed harmless to the average person, people going about their day as the vines were removed from buildings and suburbs alike seemingly overnight. A simple species that could be dealt with, or so they thought.</p><p>Sapnap had been like the general population, mostly ignoring the existence of the vines. He’d find himself usually driving around them or over them as though they were simply speedbumps to be avoided.</p><p>It was a crisp, clear day. March 2018, to be exact. That was the day the egg opened.</p><p>Unbeknownst to the citizens of Orlando, the egg had opened its first layer. And with it came the spores. Each bloodvine that littered the street had also begun to release the toxic spores into the air. Nobody noticed it, of course, until it grew into a problem people couldn’t simply ignore. </p><p>It began simply, people began to speak kindly of the egg and the blood vines, some even sitting down next to them to be closer. People would host picnics next to the nearest hotspots, communal dinners, and parties held where the egg laid, almost as if it were a warped form of festival. A grand affair, really, for something so utterly vile in nature. </p><p>Then, after a few weeks, the people began to change.</p><p>George had seen it in his friend at college, Darryl had been one of the people to attend one of the Egg parties a week prior and come back jovial and elated. What started with a few spots (which he chalked up to acne) became more apparent when George began to notice Darryl’s usual eye colour turning a brighter shade of muddy brown. Due to his colour blindness, however, George had failed to see that Darryl’s irises had indeed changed, but not to brown. In the iris held a violent shade of red, a crimson concoction that fascinated the others who had grown close to the blood vines. His eyes were the shade of the egg, and the changes didn’t stop there.</p><p>Dream had been walking down the street when he noticed a man hunched over in the middle of the abandoned road. He’d thought it weird that the cars had slowly begun to decrease in appearances, but paid it no mind. It was a Sunday night, after all, who would be out on the day of rest? </p><p>As he neared the man, Dream’s gut began to clench, but- he continued. A few more steps forward and the man must have seemingly heard him approaching, for he had immediately straightened his back. Dream squinted for a second, his walking pace slowing as he neared the man, were those...veins...on his neck? He inched closer, trying to get a closer look at the man who was now quite obviously heaving in breaths. </p><p>“Hey…” a timid voice, a whisper of concern, “Are you...are you okay, man?”</p><p>Almost as soon as he spoke, Dream had immediately wished he hadn’t said a thing.</p><p>The man’s head whipped around faster than his entire body had even the slightest chance to react. The things he’d seen gripping the back of the man’s neck now stood stark against his blistered face, the bloody red tendrils of blood vines that Dream had so stupidly mistaken for veins angrily screamed at the poor unsuspecting boy. Much like Darryl, his eyes held that crimson pool of hate, only his had finally broken free of the restrictions of the iris. The sclera was now stained and tainted with the bloody virus, leaving only the gaping hole of a pupil to stare at the uninfected boy.</p><p>Dream’s mouth opened in a silent, choked scream as he took in the appearance of the man, immediately stepping back to put space between him and- what the fuck was that thing? A zombie? No- they only appeared in...what? A stupid movie you’d watch with a group of people on Halloween?</p><p>No, this was real. Dream’s first encounter with one of the infected.</p><p> </p><p>Both boys had met Dream in the back of an abandoned and looted 7/11, in a weak ploy to try and find supplies. Dream had been cowering behind a loaded shotgun in the storage closet alongside the body of a young teenage girl. Although she laid face-down, the two friends could clearly see the vines that peeked from underneath her blood-stained hoodie. They tried to approach the shivering man, only to stare down the barrel of his gun. </p><p>The girl that laid beside him had been his sister, they’d soon learn. She’d given up her gas mask to a small child on the way to the convenience store. Drista, forever loving and caring, had allowed her one weakness to be her downfall. As soon as she’d made contact with the toxic air, she began to shift and change within seconds, Dream had told the boys. “One of the fastest changers I’d seen in a long time.” He added, tearfully.<br/>
It had taken a few days inside the 7/11 for the two boys to convince the brother to leave the corpse of his sister behind, and when he did, Dream had silently vowed to himself that he would return and give her a proper burial. But for now, they needed to move.</p><p> </p><p>Three Years Later</p><p> </p><p>George had woken up alone in the sleeping bag he’d shared with Dream. Sapnap had insisted that he couldn’t find another for the other two, pressing into them that he wanted and deserved his own sleeping bag to be greedy with. George had called him selfish but begrudgingly agreed with him in the abandoned Home Depot store. The cracked and hoarse screams of the infected blood-dwellers had majorly played into his decision making. </p><p>Waking up alone was certainly not what George had planned for the day. </p><p>“Sapnap- Sapnap! Wake up!” he shook the other from his sleep, only to be met with a hand trying to bat him away, “Sapnap, for fuck’s sake, get the fuck up you lazy nimrod, Dream’s missing.” </p><p>The instant the boy’s name had been uttered, Sapnap’s eyes snapped open, sitting up. Dream never went missing. After the death of his sister, he’d made it a point to stay with George and Sapnap to the point where it irritated them at times. Although they missed the idea of being solitary with their thoughts, the ever-present Dream somehow comforted them. That- and the number of times he’d saved them while their back was turned.</p><p>Sapnap rose from the sleeping bag, rolling it up. From his pocket emerged the spore-tracking device that had been mass-produced in the early days of the infection, gauging the levels of spores in the air. 0.1 was the healthiest air quality available, it didn’t require the stuffy and sometimes painful airtight gas masks that a 0.4-1.0 area did. Nobody dared enter the areas where the spore ratio hit 1.0. Even with a gas mask, people had been rumoured to turn due to the significant concentration of spores.</p><p>They set off as soon as they’d packed their sleeping bags, the comforting beep of the spore-tracking device alerting them that the place was indeed safe enough to not wear masks. Outside of their small campsite, George had loaded an arrow into the crossbow he had on hand, pulling it up in line with his eye. Through the sight, he latched onto the infected that stood dormant in the road. They did that often- however conscious they were. Oftentimes they could be found laying down, sitting, or standing somewhere. Something to give the appearance of being a bystander who simply lost their way. Whenever a survivor would approach, they would immediately leap into action. The preferred way of the infected was to rip the throats out of their victims. Sometimes they’d scratch it out. On rare occasions, they’d strangle their victims with the very blood vines that grew on their infested body.</p><p>George raised the sight, marking the crosshair over the infected’s face before firing the shot. With an aim true, the arrow sunk deep into the right temple of the woman, forcing her to crumple to the floor, dead. A grunt of confirmation from George was all they needed to confirm that the wretched thing was dead. Better off to give it a painless death rather than letting it go about its days in pain.</p><p>Both boys exited the little area silently, George retrieving the arrow that had made a home in the infected woman’s skull. “Fucking disgusting, this stupid thing.” he grimaced, picking out his handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the decaying black blood that dripped from the tip of the arrowhead. </p><p>“It’s disgusting alright, but look, George…” the mismatched eyes of the marksman followed along the pointed line of bodies that littered the street. Dream had obviously marked his trail, making it easy to track. “He’s definitely gone, maybe he went on a supply run? We were running low on-”</p><p>“Sapnap.” George pressed, eyes tearing away from the arrowhead towards his friends, the frown speaking words he most certainly had trouble forming. “When has Dream ever left us to our own devices to get supplies?”</p><p>The black-haired boy stilled, hands reaching up to instinctively fiddle with the ends of his stained white bandana. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right.”</p><p>Now, George and Sapnap walked side-by-side in silence. Their hands clasped together in a feeble attempt to keep each other grounded. Obviously, it wouldn’t work, but they would never admit it to anybody.</p><p>Dream was missing, and they had to find him.</p><p>The number of bodies they’d stumbled upon began to dwindle in numbers, and this scared the duo more than they’d cared to admit. Every other body they’d find meant another reassuring squeeze, a thread of hope that they’d find him.</p><p> </p><p>Turning the corner onto one of the main streets, George and Sapnap found themselves walking in silence once again, the only noise between them being the telltale beep of the spore-indicator. Blue eyes connected with red numbers, grip tightening. “George, masks. We’re getting into 0.3 territory.” Sapnap muttered under his breath as they both automatically reached for their gas masks, putting them on as if it were just another article of regular clothing...at this point, it might as well have been.</p><p>George sighed, hand failing to find Sapnap’s as he walked. The silence resumed, save for the stray infected that would groan their way. One of them would take care of it, the other would stare blankly. </p><p>Routine, you know?</p><p>As they walked, George found his eyes following their reflections in the shop windows that passed by, the distorted images plastered on the glass warped from years of abandon, but he found it somewhat charming. The ghost of something resembling a smile of memory once taken for granted had passed his lips before he returned to the brutal reality of the situation. </p><p> </p><p>Dream had haunted George’s thoughts for the past few days, waking up next to him had been something he’d done many times. George would always wake up first, glance over at the man sleeping next to him, and smile to himself. The first night, he’d taken a note of the constellations of freckles that adorned the blonde’s face. Maybe if they were in a different world, he would have pranked him with a sharpie, connecting each dot into a myriad of lewd drawings. The thought of it made him chuckle, to be completely honest. But the thoughts didn’t stop there.<br/>
George’s thoughts had wandered when he allowed them to. Dreams of domesticity with both him and Sapnap. In his mind, they’d live together as best friends in an apartment that probably couldn’t hold the three of them. It wouldn’t matter though. He’d wake up in the morning to a warm bed and an even warmer breakfast cooked by one of the others. Preferably Sapnap. He’d always had this way of taming fire to his own will, his cooking skills only demonstrating a small portion of that love of the flame. Dream only ever burned the bacon he so much as looked at.</p><p>In his mind, he’d escape to cozy evenings cooped up with his boys, hot chocolates laced in their fingers, and some obscure movie playing that they probably wouldn’t even pay attention to.</p><p>So when he awoke to the sight of a small campfire and two sleeping bags, George allowed himself to shed a tear at the consequences of his attachment to a reality he’d dreamed of.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap walked solemnly alongside George as they navigated through the concrete jungles of Florida. Much like George, he too wondered about the possibility of another lifetime. He could see them all huddled around their respective computers, battling out against each other in a game of blocks, angrily screeching at the top of their lungs over trivial items. It was probably a year ago when Sapnap had found a Gameboy in a store they were looting. A dusted copy of a pokemon game shoved into the cartridge slot. He remembered the way Dream’s emerald eyes illuminated at the screen, the way his hands reached for the small console. He remembered losing his best friends to the stupid characters on the screen for hours and hours at a time.</p><p>He remembered when they fought over playing the game.</p><p>He remembered when Dream threw it to the ground.</p><p>He remembered when George had slapped Dream across the face.</p><p>He remembered the way Dream still stayed with them, despite the argument.</p><p>“Why did you leave?” a whisper, so small, but in the static air, it echoed like a gunshot. </p><p>Shaking his head, Sapnap’s nimble fingers found their way to one of the slithers of fabric from his bandana knot, turning it over and over in his fingers, a nervous habit he’d developed ever since Dream had left. In his daydream, George had vanished from his side, only far enough for Sapnap to see him round a corner. </p><p>It took him but a few seconds to catch up, slowing down before the corner fully came up. The first thing he noticed was the sounds of sniffles and muffled sobs, almost as if the person was choking back tears. Unfortunately for him, he’d heard the noise too many times to understand that George was the one producing the tears. Had he found him? Had George found Dream? Oh god…Please. Sapnap prepared himself for the worst as he turned the corner with closed eyes, face scrunched. </p><p>He opened one eye, mentally taking in the sight in front of him. In some twisted, fucked up way, he let out the breath he’d forgotten he was holding the entire time, a wash of relief swarming him as he realised it wasn’t in fact Dream.</p><p>Nevertheless, the reality of the sight before him still managed to crack at his already damaged heart.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo and Tommy were spirited when the trio had first met them. They’d taken pity on the two brothers. Tubbo, despite being older, was a few heads smaller than Tommy, no less physically weaker. Despite the physical disadvantage, they managed to persevere even through the toughest of situations. </p><p>Sapnap had found them rummaging through their supplies while they slept, it was his time to watch and he’d most conveniently fallen asleep. Luckily, he happened to be a light sleeper, so when he heard the faint sound of a backpack zipper opening, he snapped awake to find the two malnourished teenagers snooping through George’s stuff.</p><p>“Hey- What the fuck?” he exclaimed, immediately startling the other two awake which prompted them to each grab their weapons. Both boys reacted immediately, dropping whatever they had in their arms. Outnumbered 3-2. The blonde’s face immediately flushed with anger as he reached for the machete that haphazardly swung across his shoulder, only to be stopped by the smaller boy with brown hair, who spoke in stumbled sentences. </p><p>“Wait! Wait! Please, please, please...We’re sorry! We’re sorry! You’re just- You’re just the first people we’ve seen in a while...we got a bit...ahead of ourselves at...at the food.” he admitted shamefully, head hanging low as he clasped his hands together. The blonde beside him stayed silent, though clearly used to the brunette’s way of speaking.</p><p>Sapnap looked at the two boys and then back to his own friends, nodding to them to signify that they should lower their weapons. Once he turned back to the teens, he sighed, digging a hand into his own backpack to produce two bottles of water and two tins of canned pineapples.</p><p>They’d later learned that they were brothers both named Tommy and Tubbo. After their base, which Tommy had oh so proudly exclaimed as “L’manberg” had been overrun with infecteds after a raid, they had lost sight of their older twin brothers Wilbur and Technoblade and their father, Philza.</p><p>“They’re probably gone now, fuckers were too fucking stupid to carry their stupid fucking…” Tommy’s voice cracked as he angrily wiped away the oncoming tears that stung his eyes with the back of his torn sleeve, “stupid fucking gas masks. Ran straight to a 1.0, they did. Fucking....fucking idiots…”</p><p>Dream had taken them seriously, although he never stated a reason why, both Sapnap and George knew that he saw Drista in them. And, for the sake of appearances, none of them had commented on it.</p><p>A breezy day in late 2019 had the five of them sitting around a small beaten battery-powered radio on the roof of one of the buildings in the outer city. Tubbo and Tommy had both been fiddling with the knobs for a few hours now, desperate for something, just a whisper of hope that their family was alive. It was nearing the third hour when Tommy stood up and drew back his foot to kick the damned thing when Tubbo cranked the station to 42.0, and the telltale crackle static finally answered their prayers.</p><p>“BigQ to Innit and BeeBoy, BigQ to Innit and BeeBoy...Please…a…thing...any...ing...h...o?” it spat, and in that moment, Tommy’s exterior crumpled.</p><p>The blonde fell to his knees as he crawled towards the radio with tearful eyes, gripping the damned thing as if it were his life, speaking into it, “BigQ? I...Innit here! I’m here! Tubbo’s here! We’re here! BigQ, we’re here! You’re…” his voice choked for a second, before continuing, “We’re here...we’re alive…”</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo and Tommy had gained the coordinates to Alexis Quackity’s location, the promise that the rest of their family was there prompted them to leave immediately as they heard the news. It was a tearful exchange as the Dream Team bid goodbye to the two teenagers they’d stayed with for a few weeks. Tommy grinned toothily at them, a real surprise to the 3 adults. Tommy never gave a genuine heartfelt smile. It was nice.</p><p> </p><p>So when Sapnap turned the corner, the wash of relief quickly turned into dread upon finding the two teenagers huddled together. Tommy’s decayed arms clutching his older brother whose face was hidden in his chest. It was clear Tubbo had been scared, downright terrified of death. But Tommy was different. His face was solemn, accepting. He’d done his job of protecting his brother, both George and Sapnap knew that. The blood vines had encompassed their bodies in a cold embrace, signifying they’d been there a while. </p><p>Quickly pulling George away from the scene, Sapnap encompassed George in a hug, hiding his face from the sight of the brothers hugging. “George, don’t look. Don’t look...” he whispered softly into the sobbing brunette’s hair, patting it down in a soothing rhythm. “I know...I know.” Sapnap’s eyes turned away from the scene when a thought came to him. Releasing George, he pulled off his backpack, extracting the extra blanket he carried with him for when the bitter nights began to bite at their fingers. </p><p>Walking towards the brothers, Sapnap drew back the material and pushed forward, leaning forward to blanket the two, covering the vines. Once he pulled back, Sapnap’s lips pulled up into a sad smile. </p><p>The brothers were just hugging, cold from the weather. </p><p>That’s what he’d tell Dream. </p><p>They’d made it to their L’manberg.</p><p> </p><p>George woke up the next day, eyes red and puffy. The vision of the two teenagers burned into the back of his mind. Sapnap shaking him awake. “George, come on,” he mumbled, having packed up the base while the other was sleeping. George nodded, slowly getting up, allowing Sapnap to pack up his sleeping bag. He stood there in silence, looking outside the window of the grocery store they’d holed themselves up in for the night. </p><p>“Hey, Sap?” </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“There’s a trail of bodies again.”</p><p>Sapnap’s eyes turned to where George was looking, seeing the trail beginning once again. Almost immediately, his heart began to glow in hope. George’s sunken mismatched eyes stared in what seemed to be a small twinge of glee underneath the trauma. Dream’s trail had picked up again. He was alive. He was alive and they were sure of it.</p><p>The pair ventured out along the trail together, hand in hand. Sapnap’s eyes squinted from behind the gas mask’s layer of eye protection. “George, do you really think he’s out there?”</p><p>George didn’t turn, “Of course I do, he wouldn’t just leave us for no good reason,” he said, “speaking of reasons, I’m gonna beat his ass if he doesn’t give us a good enough reason.” A small but genuine laugh breezed past George’s lips, slightly muffled by the gas mask on his face. Both of them watched as the beeping of the spore-detector increased while they walked. </p><p>Idle conversations dwindled while they trekked past many a body...just how many had Dream taken down? It had to be twenty- no, thirty. Maybe fourty? They’d lost count. Sapnap made a mental note to congratulate the green-clad man on his accomplishment. Dream was always the most talented one of their group, having been acquainted with weapons long before the start of the blood vines spread. The hard work definitely paid off, Sapnap thought.</p><p>Both boys turned yet another corner, a few infected people standing in the road, some of Dream’s bodies scattered around the place. George raised his crossbow, Sapnap raising his preferred weapon of choice, a trusted ax. Lining up the crosshairs once again, George peered through the spyglass to the tallest of the three zombies. This one’s skin was grey, a sickly grey, the vines standing out even more than the other two. No matter, though. George didn’t care for them. His finger drifted to the trigger, applying the slightest pressure, ready to-</p><p>“Wait...look.” Sapnap stopped him, forcefully lowering the crossbow down. “Look.”</p><p>The tallest zombie was making noises, a garbled, groaning sound that was indecipherable to the human ear. His hands waved around animatedly as he comedically picked up his burgundy beanie from the floor. His brown hair appeared in tufts, some hidden under the headpiece. He seemed to have been turned for a while, but why was he acting so...human?</p><p>George’s attention turned to the other two, the second tallest had a dull pink head of chin-length hair. Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he listened to the groaning of the tallest. “Are they…?” Sapnap began, breathless.</p><p>“Talking...they’re talking. They’re having a conversation…” George finished, equally as taken aback. </p><p>The third zombie stayed sitting on the floor, looking up at the sky. In his fingers, a green handkerchief. Sapnap focused in on the thing, trying to figure out where he’d heard the mention of it. It seemed so familiar yet so foreign. Where was it from? </p><p>And it clicked.</p><p>“George, this is Tommy and Tubbo’s family.”</p><p> </p><p>The two boys made the remainder of the teenager’s families' deaths quick. Painless. They would’ve never seen it coming. Standing up from his crouching position, George wiped the black blood from his arrowhead once again and pocketed it back into his quiver. “Let’s get out of here, Sap.” He frowned. Even in death, the two teenagers had come back into their lives in the most unexpected of ways.</p><p>Two Days Later.</p><p>Sapnap and George found themselves walking along a familiar path. The memory faint, however. Something itching at the back of their mind, the tip of their tongue. They couldn’t place their mind on it. </p><p>George reached in his backpack, yawning from the exhaustion of constantly walking. Pulling out his water bottle, he quickly unscrewed the cap and began to pull his mask off when he was quickly stopped by Sapnap’s frantic actions. “George! What the fuck? Are you insane? Can you not see we’re literally in a .6er? What the fuck is wrong with you?” he screeched in a panic, batting the water bottle from George’s hands. He watched it hit the floor and roll, the contents spilling onto the road.</p><p>Livid, the brunette pulled his hands from Sapnap’s grasp, “What the fuck is wrong with you! We’re literally running low and you fucking did that?!” he quickly bent down and picked up the bottle, managing to only lose ¼ of the fluid. Screwing the cap back on, George looked back up at him, frustration plain on his features. “Fuck you, dude. I’m just fucking tired and you do that?”</p><p>“You know what, George? I’m just trying to fucking find Dream here, you’ve been fucking slacking. Sure, you’ve taken a few of ‘em out, but all you do is sit and mope. You don’t do fucking anything to help me. If you wanna go get fucking infected, go and get fucking infected- see if I fucking care- I don’t! I don’t give a fucking shit. </p><p>And don’t pull that bullshit about what we just saw, I saw Tommy and Tubbo too, but you know what? We just have to move on. That’s life. They couldn’t defend themselves and they di-”</p><p>Sapnap’s head jerked rapidly to the side, his rant cut off mid-sentence by a sobbing George’s hand. </p><p>“How...dare you.” a quivering voice sounded, and Sapnap knew instantly that he’d stepped over the line. </p><p>“George...I…”</p><p>Sapnap’s head turned to see George’s feet pivot, his body turning in the opposite direction. “Don’t. You go look that way, I’ll look this way.” </p><p> </p><p>His hand stretched out to reach for the other, </p><p>But as quick as he’d raised it, Sapnap’s hand retreated to his side.</p><p> </p><p>George wandered on his own, sighing deeply through his nose. Was it really a good idea to leave Sapnap on his own? He turned around to the now-empty street. “Sapnap?” He called out, the words echoing. Did he actually leave? George’s breath began to pick up in intensity as he walked back the way he came from. Each time he called for his best friend, the strain in his voice became definitely more apparent.<br/>
“Sapnap? Sapnap- Fuck! This isn’t funny! Sapnap!” he cried with abandon, tears springing to his eyes.</p><p>“GEORGE!” a scream reverberated through the street from a nearby shop, all the confirmation George needed to break into a sprint with the last of his energy. Loading his crossbow mid-sprint, George raised his foot and kicked open the door to the shop the scream had come from, planting his arrow right in the head of an infected that had knocked Sapnap down. Quickly, he dashed towards his friend, pulling him into a hug.</p><p>“Oh my god, oh my god...oh my god…” George pulled his friend to his chest, shaking heavily. “Sapnap...Sapnap...holy shit...holy shit…” He mumbled, into the other’s hair.<br/>
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have walked away...Sapnap...I’m sorry…” </p><p>George pulled away to examine any possible damage towards Sapnap, quickly checking over his body, thank god for no visible injuries. With a relieved sigh, George looked into Sapnap’s eyes with the glee of a thousand lifetimes, only to be met with the defeated gaze of his friend. A defeated gaze that looked a little too clear.</p><p>At once, he noticed it, and the short-lived rejoice turned into a sorrowful stare. Sapnap’s gas mask laid on the floor skidded a few feet away from where they stood. Both pairs of eyes turned down to the spore-detector, the blinking light of 0.7 staring back at them with an unfeeling gaze. </p><p>“George...it got me from behind...there was nothing I could do.” Sapnap sighed, blurred vision staring up at his brunette best friend, whose eyes still laid across the gas mask. George’s eyes crinkled through the visor of his own mask as he looked back up at his best friend. </p><p>“Oh, Sapnap…” he sighed, breaking into a laugh as he pulled his best friend into a tight embrace, “Sapnap...it’s okay. It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.” he shook his head wantonly in the embrace.</p><p>And Sapnap heard the clunk of George’s mask hit the ground.</p><p>Ripping away from his embrace, Sapnap stared at the now unmasked George, who smiled back at him. “George- What are you-”</p><p>“Sapnap, come on. Who are we kidding anymore?” George interrupted, waving his hand dismissively, “I think...Dream was right, Dream was right to leave. We needed this. We needed...to just...be free, you know? It was fun, don’t get me wrong, it was definitely fun while it lasted- but, I’ve been thinking…</p><p>After seeing...y’know...Tommy and Tubbo,” he choked on their names, as if the mention of them was a hot fire on his tongue, “I thought, hey. Maybe it might not be so bad. Dying with the ones you hold most dear…? Maybe it’s not what people say it is. I mean look at us, we’re not in any pain? We’re just...enjoying our time we have left now, however long it may be…</p><p>All good things must come to an end eventually, and I think this?” George gestured between the both of them, “I think...this is our end, Sapnap.”</p><p>The other reached up to his hairline, clasping his bandana before sliding it off. His eyes turned downcast to look at the stained strip of material in his hands. “You know what...George? You’re right.”</p><p>The two boys walked from the 7/11 slowly, hand in hand. George’s clout goggles and Sapnap’s bandana stuck with arrows on either side of the doors. A testament, a memorial, a memory. Remembrance of a story that would be forgotten with the virus’ spread. Nobody left alive to tell their story as they walked down the road of the sunshine state.</p><p> </p><p>Dream sat up from the grave he’d dug, looking at the crudely etched “D-R-I-S-T-A” marked into the haphazardly made cross. In his hands laid his pistol, caked with black blood from all of the infected people he’d killed along the way. With a flick of his wrist, green eyes met with the singular bullet left in the barrel, with another flick, it closed. He moved his hands across the fine work of the gun, spinning the barrel before looking up at the grave. </p><p>A noise, a thud.</p><p> </p><p>Dream felt a hand, a warm hand on his shoulder.</p><p>Turning, he looked to see the four faces he’d been hoping to meet with, along with three new people, standing slightly off to the side.</p><p>A smile graced his face as he placed a hand over the one on his shoulder; a comfort, a safe reassurance, and with it came a voice:

</p><p>“Hey, big man.”</p>
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